The Fermi Paradox: Contact: The Fermi Paradox Series, #2

By Scott Cirakovic

The Fermi, the first human vessel capable of faster than light travel is complete. Its crew of six is ready to launch humanity into the galaxy, to find the extra-terrestrials discovered decades earlier by the scientist, Syed Abidi.

 

Alina Koralev is the newest member of the crew. Brought in at the last moment, she is faced with a group that has prepared for years to undertake this venture and must overcome her own anxiety to ensure the success of the mission. As the crew's astronomer, she will be faced with difficult decisions that will shape the future, not only of The Fermi and its crew, but for Earth.

 

Meanwhile, the Alien Resistance Militia, led by Stephen Fordham, faces its greatest challenge yet. How to stop contact with extra-terrestrials when humanity has already decided to reach out into the stars. Not only will the resistance face annihilation if it fails, but Stephen knows that they are the only hope humankind has of evolving into its full potential. Harnessing the power of other fanatics, Stephen will need to make a final, desperate gambit to ensure humanity remains alone in the galaxy.

 

As the Earth enters a new paradigm of existence, its governments and most powerful corporations vie to capitalise on the opportunities that are presented. But little do they know the true power of the Sháik Varl. Will humanity discover the truth in time to safeguard their own future?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott Cirakovic
• Release date: Sep 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9781923061408

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

3.17 pm: Tuesday, 20 August 2041—Sternberg Astronomical Institute, Moscow, Russia Province

This is absolute bullshit, Alina thought to herself, fists clenched so hard at her sides that she would be drawing blood if she wasn’t a chronic nail-biter. I need to say something; I can’t let him steal my work again.

‘Of course,’ Professor Makarov said, waving his hand grandly. ‘It was a team effort; I couldn’t have achieved so much without them.’ The professor leaned back in the office chair, a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his lined face, barely hidden by the greying beard he thought made him look wise. As always, his hair was combed to perfection in a combover, barely thick enough to hide the bald patch that was appearing at the back of his head, and his dark-grey suit was well tailored and cut in the latest style. She had never met a scientist that was as vain as the vaunted Professor Makarov.

‘Ah …’ she said, trying to get the department head’s attention who was also in the room with them. The old shrew, Olga Petrov, had been the department head for longer than Alina had been alive and seemed to disdain anyone born in this century. Her office, in which Alina now stood behind the professor, sitting in the only chair for visitors, seemed a testament to the archaic. The shelves were lined with hard-cover books that contained scientific theories which, quite frankly, were as antiquated as the books that held them. Her degrees hung on the walls in glass frames—like anyone cared about your credentials unless they were part of your digital ID anymore—and the desk and chairs had not been updated in at least twenty years. Alina was surprised the old bat used holo-projectors instead of the old monitors some of the older scientists preferred.

Petrov raised a thin eyebrow, her sallow skin pulling tight over her cheekbones like a skeleton, as Makarov turned slightly in his own chair to face her, face carefully blank under his greying beard. ‘You have something worthwhile to add?’ the shrew asked sarcastically.

Alina’s courage failed her. Even the outrage wasn’t enough to force her to speak up. ‘No,’ she squeaked, unclenching her hands and crossing her arms across her chest as her heart pounded. She rubbed the rough brown wool of her sweater, drying her sweaty palms as she silently cursed herself for not being able to tell them that she was the one that wrote the paper. It was nothing new though. Makarov had been stealing her work for years now—it was at the point where he didn’t even bother making excuses to her anymore.

Petrov and Makarov continued to congratulate each other on how well the paper was going to be received and the additional grants they would get because of it, but Alina had already zoned out, imagining the tongue-lashing she was finally going to give the professor about stealing her work again. It was a remarkably similar daydream to all the other ones she had had over the years, and she knew that, yet again, it would go unsaid in the real world.

Professor Makarov stood and did up the buttons of his suit jacket, breaking Alina out of her daydream. ‘Good day, Olga,’ he said, shaking the old shrew’s hand and turning to leave. The department head promptly fired up her holo-projector and went back to work without sparing her a single glance while Makarov left the door open for Alina to close behind her.

Alina hurried down the bright-lit hallway after him, feeling like a ghost that no one could see as scientists greeted him as they passed. It didn’t help that her pale milk skin could almost pass as the white of a phantom, especially compared to the golden-tanned professor that exuded confidence. The only thing that broke up her paleness and plainness was the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, a feature she positively hated. Pushing back a stray lock of her long brown hair, she huffed quietly, falling in beside him as they made their way back to his office. She seethed internally at the situation, but more so at her own inability to stand up for herself.

Her father had always told her that she was weak, often when he was half-way through a bottle of vodka, and that it would have been better if she had been born a man. ‘At least then,’ he would say to her, ‘you would have some balls like your brothers.’ She had grown up being told that she was always wrong, not only by her father but also by her two younger brothers. As the eldest sibling, most people assumed, incorrectly, that she had been the leader for her younger siblings, but nothing could be further from the truth.

Thankfully, her mother had given her an escape in the library where she worked. It was there that her love for knowledge, and in particular astronomy, had blossomed. Alina’s mother had always tried to protect her from her father and brothers, but there was only so much an individual could do. None of them had ever laid a hand on her of course, but she knew enough about psychology now to realise the damage they had done to her self-esteem, and despite all that knowledge, she seemed incapable of overcoming the shortcomings of her upbringing. Growing up in Kapotnya, one of the rougher and poorer parts of Moscow, should have made her strong. It hadn’t.

‘I will need you to have my grant proposals drafted by the end of the week, Alina,’ Professor Makarov said, not even looking at her as he spoke.

Alina stumbled slightly as they walked through the corridor, aware of the Xi Dynasty propaganda posters plastered liberally along the walls. She hated the bright red posters extolling the virtues of being one of the provinces of the Empire. ‘Of course, Professor,’ she answered meekly. Alina was certain he didn’t even hear her reply as he pulled up the calendar on his watch, the day’s meetings flashing on the small holo it projected above the watch face.

‘Have you picked up my dry cleaning for the donor ball tomorrow night?’ he asked, ticking off the meeting with the department head that was flashing on the holo as overdue.

‘Not yet,’ she answered, looking down at the dark grey carpet that lined the corridor.

He shut off his holo-watch to glance at her. ‘Make sure you don’t forget. And pick me up some more cologne.’

You’re already wearing enough cologne to kill a bear, she thought to herself. She had become accustomed to blocking out the acrid smell of whatever the foul concoction was that he liked to wear.

She increased her pace slightly to open the non-descript grey door to his office for him, something she had learnt early to do for him to avoid him giving her petty tasks. Professor Makarov liked to feel important, and she found doing these small things to make him feel like a big man saved her significant time and trouble in the long run. Normally, she would enter in front of him and close the door behind her, but two men were standing in front of the large mahogany desk, causing her to halt in the doorway.

They both turned to look at her as she entered. The men were Chinese, shorter than her, which wasn’t unusual given her gangly height, and they were wearing plain black suits. One was whippet-thin while the other’s shirt strained against his paunch. Professor Makarov cleared his throat behind her, reminding her that she was still standing in the doorway and blocking not only his entrance, but his view of the intruders in his office. She skirted out of the doorway and stood awkwardly to the side as he entered.

‘Can I help you gentlemen?’ he asked after a moment, stopping in the doorway in indignation that someone was in his office uninvited.

‘I apologise for the intrusion, Professor,’ the paunchy man said with a slight bow. ‘I was given directions to this office and did not think you would mind if we waited.’

Makarov grunted and walked around the desk to his chair. ‘I don’t have any office hours scheduled today,’ he said, barely looking at the men as he sat in his highbacked desk chair. The office was quite large, considering most offices in the Sternberg Institute could only be described as shoe boxes, but Alina felt awkward anyway as she shuffled past the men to stand at the side of the desk.

‘You misunderstand,’ Paunchy continued. ‘We are not students.’

Alina tried not to stare, letting her gaze wander across the empty office. Makarov was not a fan of decorations, preferring to keep his office spartan-like in its décor. This meant she had very few things to look at instead of the men who were unknowingly annoying the professor to the point where he was about to have one of his infamous outbursts. She could practically see his blood pressure rising as his tanned cheeks started to go red under his greying beard. The professor was not a patient man and disliked people intruding on his space and time.

‘Then, I assume you have a good explanation for inviting yourself into my office?’

Yes, he is about to explode, Alina agreed with herself.

‘We are representatives of China Railway Group,’ Paunchy explained.

Some of the steam went out of Professor Makarov. China Railway Group was the company building The Fermi, the first space vessel capable of faster-than-light travel, and if they were here, it was likely good news for him.

‘And what, pray tell, can I do for you gentlemen?’ His tone had done an almost complete backflip, from indignation and anger to humble acceptance of their presence in his space, even if uninvited. Alina was almost impressed by his ability to curb his anger so efficiently.

Probably here to offer him a job based on my work, Alina thought to herself acidly, trying to keep the scowl from her face. She had published several excellent papers under her own name, having been careful to keep them from the professor, but all her best work was always published under his credentials. Thoughts of quitting were almost constant, but Alina couldn’t afford to be without work. At only twenty-eight, she was considered young and untried among other scientists and definitely did not have a large reputation to fall back on. All this kept her working for the jerk behind the desk.

‘As you would be aware,’ Paunchy explained, leaving Alina to wonder if the skinny man could speak at all. ‘The Fermi is set to launch soon.’

‘Of course.’ The professor waved away the news from his throne-like chair.

‘Well, what is not widely known yet is that the astronomer chosen to be part of the crew has withdrawn from the project.’

What! Alina barely stopped herself from blurting out her thought. Being a crew member on The Fermi was one of the greatest aspirations a scientist could have. Being part of the crew on the first interstellar craft would set you up for life, not to mention giving you the experience of a lifetime. Actually, being able to travel through space to try and find extra-terrestrials … Alina couldn’t think of anything grander.

Who would drop out of that opportunity? she wondered silently.

‘Well,’ Professor Makarov said with raised eyebrows, letting out a puff of breath. ‘I will need some time to put my affairs in order. It is no simple thing for a scientist of my standing to simply leave the institute without notice, but I am sure I can make it work to help a project such as The Fermi.’

Skinny cleared his throat awkwardly. The silence stretched.

‘I apologise again, Professor,’ Paunchy finally said, giving a strained smile. ‘But we have not come here to speak to you.’ He turned to face Alina, still standing silently beside the monstrosity of a desk. ‘I assume you are Dr Alina Koralev?’

Alina’s jaw dropped. ‘Yeh,’ she croaked. ‘Yes,’ she said again, clearing her throat. Her heart was pounding. Why do they know my name?

‘Excellent,’ Paunchy continued. ‘We are here on behalf of Dr Akira Sato, who has a job offer for you.’

A giddy excitement welled up in her chest. ‘You mean on The Fermi?’ She couldn’t help the grin that broke out on her face.

‘Of course,’ he answered, sharing her grin.

Alina wanted that moment to last forever. She wasn’t sure what was better: getting her dream job on The Fermi or the stunned and horrified look on Professor Makarov’s ugly face.

CHAPTER 2

8.39 pm: Thursday, 12 September 2041—Galaxy Building, 20 km West of Beijing, Xi Dynasty

Akira stretched his arms above his head and his legs out in front of him, letting out a large groan as he settled back into the comfortable three-seater couch against the wall in Haru’s office. His shoulder-length hair draped lightly over the back of the headrest, rustling on the white fabric. Not too many years ago, his hair would have been a stark contrast to the white couch, but now, with the amount of grey coming through, it blended into the light fabric more than he cared to admit some days. The couch had been the only concession to comfort Haru had made when they had moved into the large facility run by the China Railway Group. The remainder of his large office was very similar to the tiny one he once occupied at the University of Tokyo, covered in white boards. The only real major change was he no longer used a laptop.

‘Come on, Haru,’ he said to his friend, who was still running calculations on the array of holo-projectors beaming their screens in front of him. The calculations he was doing were far beyond what a single computer could handle, but they were linked to one of the largest super computers in the world, which was housed several stories underground beneath them. ‘I’m starving and you have run the numbers hundreds of times already.’ He looked at the serious expression on his friend’s narrow face, the mustard orange sweater he insisted on wearing constantly doing no favors for his pale complexion.

‘Thousands,’ Haru quietly corrected him, not even glancing away from the holo-projectors. His fingers danced over the holo-keyboard, silently inputting the commands into the system. Akira missed the clickety-clack of physical keyboards, the sensation of the buttons moving under your fingers, telling you that you had hit a button. Even with a program designed to make the same clacking sound from your holo-projector as you type, there was no way to recreate the feeling of the plastic buttons being mashed down.

He rubbed his forehead. ‘Exactly my point: running them one last time won’t change anything.’ Akira looked out the floor-to-ceiling window behind his friend’s desk. The silhouette of The Fermi loomed through the windows, the spotlights lighting the impressive creation, day and night, even now that almost all the work was complete.

‘We are a week away from launching the first FTL-enabled space ship ever created by humankind,’ Haru said distractedly but not without passion, pushing the thick-rimmed red glasses back up his nose. ‘Which will also be, should our life’s work bear fruit, the first time humans conduct intergalactic travel. I think we can be late for dinner to check the math again.’ Haru glanced up from the data and diagnostics projected in front of him. It was actually surprising to Akira that Haru was still using holo-projectors. Contact lenses that displayed your screens directly onto your retina had been out for years, providing not only correction for normal vision problems but also access to an augmented reality, something he knew appealed to Haru. They even allowed you to use subcutaneous chips in your wrists as virtual watches instead of physical devices. He was thankful though, because he couldn’t imagine Haru without his glasses on.

Akira smiled. Being friends for over twenty years meant he knew that he would not win the argument, but it also meant he didn’t mind. And Haru was right; this was their life’s work and one of the greatest achievements in history, so, you know, no pressure or anything.

‘Mei Wang came looking for you again today,’ Haru said, still hunched over the glass desk. Akira tried not to think about what it was doing to Haru’s posture.

‘Of course, she did,’ Akira sighed. Even engrossed in some of the most complex mathematical equations on the planet, Haru still managed to bring up a topic just to get a rise out of him. ‘What did she want this time?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘She didn’t tell you?’

‘I’m sure she did, I just wasn’t listening.’

Akira wasn’t surprised; Haru had a tendency to ignore people when he was working, himself being the exception it seemed.

‘Probably here to try to change my mind about my choice of astronomer for the mission,’ Akira guessed, tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch.

‘Doesn’t she like the guy you chose? He worked at the University of Tokyo like we did, right?’

‘His name was Hiroto, and he quit the project two weeks ago,’ Akira pointed out.

Haru raised his eyebrows in surprise, the only sign he gave that he had heard the news.

‘I did tell you about that, you know.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you did, Akira.’

Akira shook his head at his friend. ‘I found an excellent replacement from the Russian Province called Alina Koralev.’

‘What has Mei Wang got against Russians? They have been a province of the Xi Dynasty for decades.’

‘Nothing. She is just angry that I chose someone independently instead of taking her recommendation. Whoever she recommended would have just been another Xi Dynasty lackey.’ Akira couldn’t help the slight intonation of spite in his words. Despite moving to China decades ago when he accepted this job, he had never lost his sense of national identity or pride in Japan.

‘We work for the China Railway Group, not the Xi Dynasty,’